


Blue Neighborhood

by taeminki



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 6+1, M/M, aka taeyong isn't loved by everyone, spoiler: there's an endgame pairing :o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-04-18 05:43:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taeminki/pseuds/taeminki
Summary: for lee taeyong, falling in love was like playing russian roulette-- and he realized, after some lonely time, that he had the safety on(alt. the many times taeyong fell in love, tried to shoot his shot, and failed; and the one time his arrow struck)





	1. lost boy

**Author's Note:**

> taeyong falls in love too quickly, and too easily

** early in autumn, **

Taeyong was riding the train. The setting was a calm one, in which Taeyong had headphones tucked into his tears, wires resting against his chest-- vibrating against the steady rhythm of his music and his heartbeat. They got lost in the warmth of his black jacket-- as did his hands in its pockets. He leaned against his comfortable seat and enjoyed the scenery flashing by-- the mountains and the rivers-- the skyline and the trees-- the birds flying above the ocean, with places to be and places to see.

The calm of the scenery was interrupted by another calm-- which came from the tap of a Japanese finger against his shoulder. He turned to the man next to him-- who he, actually, did not know yet to be foreign. When he gently said, "I'm sorry, but can you show me where Seoul is on this map?" Taeyong didn't recognize him to be foreign, still. Taeyong kindly pointed out the man's desired spot and asked, "Are you from around here?"

"Oh, no. I just came from Japan a year ago," the man said. Taeyong startled at that-- the man in front of him was Japanese? He wouldn't have recognized that-- until he held out his hand and introduced himself, "My name is Nakamoto Yuta."

"Lee Taeyong," Taeyong responded. He found himself in a sea of wonder-- asking the man questions about his hometown and what it was like to be in South Korea compared to the beautiful Japan. Yuta laughed at the comparison-- at the bleak way Taeyong stated South Korea. He said South Korea, too, was beautiful; and, actually, he didn't believe there was a place in the world that _wasn't_  beautiful. Some places were misunderstood, sure-- unfortunate, and in need of isolation from the destructive nature of humans, but _everywhere_  was a beautiful place, and there was beauty in everything. Yuta was very mind-opening and eye-opening, and maybe a little much but Taeyong had always liked that extra spark of personality in people-- that extra bout of opinion that really kept the conversation going.

"Your Korean is very good," Taeyong mentioned after their brief conversation about beauty touching every corner of the world. Yuta smiled at the compliment, but before he could say _thank you_ , Taeyong asked another question, "How long have you been studying?"

"Just this year. I came to Korea knowing very little." Yuta said, a little shy in his words. Taeyong wondered why, and startled again at the new fact. He could hardly believe it, "How did you manage living in Korea knowing so little?"

"I talked to people a lot." Yuta said. He went on to explain that he'd always been taught living in a country that spoke his target language would be the quickest way to learn it; so he taught himself Hangul a few months before he set off to South Korea, and he watched Korean movies and documentaries non-stop until he understood basic culture aspects and conversation-- and then he threw himself head-first into a city of Korean people and forced himself to adapt. He was like a chameleon, Taeyong thought-- a very _brave_ chameleon. Taeyong admired his bravery-- and his _discipline_ , "That's _really_  admirable. Why did you do it?"

Yuta shrugged, "I wanted to," and Taeyong's admiration for the man grew. All that work, just because he wanted to. Taeyong wished he loved himself as much, to work so hard just to make himself happy.

"That's incredible." Taeyong said, his voice suddenly hushed by his shock-- his inability to express just how highly he thought of Yuta for doing such a thing. He knew it wasn't completely unheard of; he knew people had done it before, but he'd never sat with such a person; he'd never gotten to admire such a person in such close proximity. He had never asked them questions, had never communicated with them at all-- so talking to Yuta and hearing about his experiences and his optimism through frustrating moments was really quite mind-opening.

"I'd like to know about you, too-- if you don't mind." Yuta said, very polite and with a very sweet smile--and Taeyong noticed his smile, and thought it was beautiful, and may have said something if the timing was right-- if he wasn't being rude by skipping over a suggestion from Yuta, "No, that's fine. I--" and Taeyong didn't know what to talk about, because Yuta had this incredible story to share and Taeyong suddenly felt so boring in comparison. He started with the basics, and hoped Yuta had a question for him at the end-- "I'm a student right now, in university. I'm actually coming back from visiting my parents."

Taeyong regretted not saying more before the few moments of silence that fell between them-- because Yuta clearly expected more, with his curious eyes and polite smile-- his raised eyebrows and his posture, leaning forward to hear Taeyong better. When Yuta realized it was the end, he _did_  have a question to ask-- "What are you studying?"

"Film. I'd like to be a photographer-- or a movie producer, which is a little more ambitious, but... I mean, I could do it, I think." Taeyong said. Yuta grinned at him-- more teeth in this smile than the polite one he'd been wearing the whole ride, and he nudged Taeyong gently, "There's the spirit;" and the two of them shared a laugh before Taeyong said, "Yeah-- I'm a little more inspired to keep them high, hearing how well optimism has worked for you."

"Hey, that's what I'm here for-- spread positivity and then try to find my way through the big city." Yuta said, gesturing to Seoul on his map. Again, the two shared a laugh. Yuta asked, "What kinds of movies do you want to direct?"

"I'm a sucker for romance." Taeyong said. Yuta hummed like he agreed, but didn't say anything, leaving Taeyong to do the talking-- "I'd love to direct a romantic comedy-- or just a straight-up _romance_  film. I always think there's a little too much drama in he ones we see, and I want... something a little more real, you know? Where it's rocky all the way through and a little open at the end.

"I've always been kind of against a perfectly happy ending in a movie, you know? I feel like there should be a couple holes that haven't been filled up, because a movie can't capture someone's entire life, and it can't predict the future, so it should be a little open-- like 'this is what the ending is like _now_ , but there's still more to come'."

"I can't wait to see _your_  movies." Yuta said. His smile was far more than polite, now; it was amused, and agreeing-- "I've never thought of it like that, but now that you mention it... yeah, not many movies leave an open ending. A lot of them end on a kiss that, like, seals perfection in a relationship or something-- and all the fights end with just that kiss, and all the mistakes are mended with just that kiss and-- you're right, it's stupid. Well-- not stupid-- it gives people hope, but... it's not real. Right? Like, people can't have _that_  much hope in one event-- people have to keep working to keep that hope alive."

 _"Exactly."_ Taeyong said, a laugh in his agreement. "I think you're the only person that's ever understood me on that subject."

"Really? Huh-- it's a really intelligent-- or-- intellectual?-- thought, so. Maybe people just aren't open to... _open_ , like that." Yuta said, and Taeyong nodded. He liked Yuta's mind. He liked Yuta's acceptance of his trivial opinions. He liked Yuta's open personality, fit for small adjustments. He liked Yuta.

"My legs are _killing me_." Yuta said, stretching his legs in front of him. He looked at up the prompter and sighed a bit, "As much as I don't want to stop talking to you, I'm very glad to be getting off this train soon. I've been sitting for far too long."

"I think you're allowed to walk around a bit-- at least stand and stretch." Taeyong said, looking around to see if anyone else was doing the same. Most everyone else was asleep, and those who weren't were curled up around their tablets or phones with headphones and movies or shows playing. Taeyong recalled his own music-- his headphone still in his ear, and he tuned into it for a moment to hear a soft melody playing-- a melody that his mind had ignored in favor of Yuta, but a melody that his mind favored. The melody played as Yuta stood, with words falling from his lips that Taeyong didn't hear, and therefore didn't respond to. The melody played as Yuta stretched softly, arms lifting into the air, feet raising to put pressure on his toes instead. His shirt rode up his stomach, and Taeyong didn't mean to watch-- at least, not so closely-- but he did; because he found he was really intrigued by Yuta-- _really_  intrigued.

Taeyong's hands reached into his bag before he could stop them. He produced a device he liked to call his **Cupid Bow** \-- a bow like a heart and an arrow tipped with love in the same shape as his own. Taeyong positioned his arrow against his bow; he lifted it slightly and wondered if he was moving too fast. Perhaps he was; perhaps he should talk to Yuta more-- but he was running out of time. He hadn't looked at the prompter himself, but Yuta said _soon_ \-- he was getting off the train soon, and though Taeyong would get off with him, he thought he might lose Yuta in the crowd. So Taeyong positioned his bow, aiming at Yuta's heart, and he began to pull it back--

but the train stopped and Yuta said "Oh! That came quickly--" and Taeyong scrambled to put his Cupid Bow away. Yuta gathered up his bag; Taeyong did the same. Yuta waited for Taeyong; and Taeyong was right. The two left together, and Yuta stretched his arms up and said "The big city!" before he turned to Taeyong, and hugged him, and said "Thank you," and before Taeyong could ask what for, Yuta was pulling away, and telling him "I can't wait to see your movies one day;" and then he was leaving, and "Goodbye Taeyong!" and Taeyong limply waved to the hand that was waving at him.

Taeyong found himself regretting not shooting Yuta before he fully lost the chance to do so. He _could_  pull his Cupid Bow out; he _could_  aim and take his shot, except Yuta was disappearing into the crowd bit by bit-- arm covered by a passerby, back covered by a businessman. Taeyong didn't want to risk shooting into the crowd and catching the love of someone he didn't know at all-- so he shouldered his bag closer to him, turned, and went his own way.


	2. ease

**late in autumn ,**

Taeyong liked this. He liked the kind of friendship he had with Jung Yoonoh-- the kind in which the pair could lay together on Taeyong's bed, comfortable against plain white sheets-- comfortable as they stared up at Taeyong's white and grey ceiling. He liked the picture-perfect scene, in which Taeyong's black hair hid beneath a black cap and Yoonoh's brown strands were strewn across his sheets. He liked the contrast between the grey and black of his and Yoonoh's respective hoodies, and the match of their maroon sweatpants-- Yoonoh's with pockets, and Taeyong's without. He liked that their hands brushed softly between them; he liked that his arm was splayed over his stomach while Yoonoh's was resting beneath his head. He liked that they were comfortable like this. He liked that they stay together, just like that, for fifteen minutes-- after a conversation of "I'm tired," "Me, too," "Do you want to do something today?" "Not particularly," "Good, because I'm lazy," "Good. Come lay with me--" before either of them spoke again.

It was Yoonoh who did, "I was thinking."

Taeyong did that a lot too, he thought, but instead of making a joke, he said "Shoot."

"I've never been in love before." Yoonoh said. Taeyong blinked at the ceiling. He didn't think he'd ever been in love, either. He hadn't forgotten about Nakamoto Yuta-- that beautiful Japanese man that had so much fun traveling the beautiful country of South Korea without more than half a clue what he was going to run into when he began. But had he really been in love? He'd been wondering if he was, because he couldn't shake the man from his thoughts--and it had been two months.

"Like, I'm twenty-three, and I've never been in love-- not even the puppy love most people fall into in grade school." Yoonoh said. He laughed to himself, and Taeyong laughed by default (happiness was so contagious to him; his heart was weak to happiness like a dying immune system was to disease), "I've been watching a lot of romance movies-- childhood friends to lovers, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, and I wondered which kind of love I would fall into, and I realized I hadn't fallen into a single one yet."

"You will."

"I know. That's why I said _yet_ , but--" Yoonoh sighed. Taeyong peeked at him, wondering if he was sad, or disappointed. Yoonoh didn't look either part; he looked contemplative, "I just think it's strange. I don't know why. I'm still young, but... hell, I hear so many people talk about their puppy loves and they seem to have a good time looking back on it and... I wish I had one of those, you know? I regret not falling in love too fast and too soon-- just to know what it feels like."

 _Too fast and too soon_. Taeyong thought about Yuta, but he blinked him away. Yoonoh, not Yuta. Focus. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

"No you don't." Yoonoh said. He turned his head, bangs falling lazily over his forehead. Taeyong turned his head, too, and looked at him, wondering at the doubt with a smile on his lips, "What? You don't believe me?"

" _You've_  never fallen in love before? Well--" Yoonoh reflected on his doubt, rolling his eyes up in thought, turning his head away again as he processed his thoughts alone, "I guess I could believe that. I'm sure people have fallen in love with _you_  plenty of times, I just-- I don't know. Your heart is so soft, hyung, and so open-- I find it strange that you've never fallen in love before."

"I haven't found the right person, I guess." Taeyong said, shrugging. Yoonoh, too, shrugged, and said "I suppose it's the same for me."

Silence won the two over again-- for three minutes instead of fifteen. Yoonoh was the one to shoo the silence away again, with a small question of "What do you think it's like, hyung?"

"What?"

"Being in love. What do you think it feels like?" Yoonoh asked. Taeyong hadn't a clue how to answer that. He thought of Yuta again, and he was talking before he knew it, "I think it... really is like falling. I think people call it _falling_  in love for a reason-- the kind of falling where you've taken a step but you don't even realize it, and all of a sudden you're tumbling down and you can't catch yourself."

Taeyong felt like he could take it further; he felt like there was more to say, but he couldn't think of it exactly, so he stopped. Yoonoh, too, stopped; and he considered, and he asked, "Are you sure you haven't been in love?"

"I'm pretty sure." Taeyong said. He thought Yoonoh might ask why he was only _pretty_  sure, but he didn't. Rather, he fell into silence again. The two stared at the ceiling. It was the same picture perfect scene, except Yoonoh's hand was strewn over his stomach, and Taeyong's was tucked under his head, and in their little shifts and laughs their fingers had begun to hold each other. It was a loose hold, and it was simply Yoonoh's ring finger resting between two of Taeyong's, but it was the subtle kind of intimate that drove Taeyong out of his mind-- all this talk of love paired with such a lovely gesture was almost too much for Taeyong--

and he was reaching for his Cupid Bow before he knew it.

It was tucked beneath his pillow; and then it was tucked in Taeyong's palms, heavy and cold. Taeyong held it to his chest, a deep breath coursing through him as he thought about playing Cupid again. He was this close to Yoonoh; he was _inches_  away from Yoonoh. He could do it. Right? Sit up, shoot him. _Tell him_ \-- "Yoonoh, I'm going to shoot you." He took his aim; he took another breathless breath

and Taeyong hated himself for not taking archery in summer camp.

(His arrow fell to the ground with a deafening thud; and Yoonoh heard this hitch in Taeyong's breath and asked, "Are you okay?" and Taeyong nodded, staring at his arrow on the ground. Yoonoh smiled in his peripheral. He started to leave, and he started to say something to Taeyong about it. Taeyong's subconscious mind seemed to register it, because he said something-- and Yoonoh laughed at it before he left. Taeyong looked at his arrow and wondered why-- why hadn't he pulled back far enough to actually _shoot_  the damn thing? Another love, gone--all because Taeyong was too weak.)


	3. bite

**in the middle of winter ,**

Taeyong was standing with Taeil. There was snow up to their ankles, but they stood together for the fifteen minutes they had before Taeyong's next class and Taeil's departure home to talk. Taeyong shivered and Taeil laughed softly at him-- removing his scarf to place around Taeyong's neck instead. Taeyong buried his pink cheeks-- pink from the cold, pink from the romantic gesture-- in the teal scarf. Teal went nice with everything he had on-- maroon beanie, black and grey winter coat and sweatpants and boots. It was a splash of color between plain dark, like the splash of color upon his cheeks between plain fair.

"Why are you so freezing?" Taeil asked, amused by Taeyong's constant quakes. Taeyong shrugged his shaky shoulders and laughed, his breath visible in front of his mouth. Taeil brought his mittens to Taeyong's face after batting his hands against his thighs, shooing the snow away. He tried his best to warm Taeyong's face-- holding his cheeks and laughing, taking a step forward into Taeyong's space. Taeyong looked at him with big eyes-- big, happy eyes, with a smile upon his cheeks. He told Taeil, "You're warm, hyung," and laughed when Taeil said nothing-- just tilted his smile up so Taeyong could see it better-- let it grow bigger for a moment in response.

There was so much intimacy between the two, and Taeyong couldn't help but think he was the only one who felt it. It was all brand new; Taeyong couldn't recall a time Taeil had stepped so close to him just to warm him, but, then again, did everything have to be routine for it to be normal? No. But Taeyong wished this was more than just out of routine. He wished it was more than a friendly gesture from a man taking care of his best friend. He wished Taeil would bring Taeyong forward since he already had his face; he wished Taeil would kiss him and warm his chapped lips, too--but who wanted to kiss chapped lips, really? Was Taeyong thinking too much if he thought the only reason Taeil _didn't_ kiss him right then was because his nose was running and his lips were chapped?

"You should probably go to your next class, Tae." Taeil said, laughing. He began to rub his hands slowly against Taeyong's cheeks, trying his hardest to warm them. Taeyong truthfully didn't feel much warmer, because Taeil's mittens were a bit damp with snow-- but he felt so _soft_  in Taeil's hands-- warm within because Taeil was so close, and so sweet, and looked like the perfect image of love to a desperate, freezing cold Lee Taeyong.

"I want to stay with you for a few more minutes, hyung. I can beat the cold." Taeyong promised, his smile growing. Taeil laughed again-- Taeyong, too, because happiness was so damn contageous. Taeil said, "Alright," and pat Taeyong's cheeks softly-- twice. The cold wind the pats created made Taeyong shiver more, but he ignored it in favor of staying close to Taeyong-- or making sure he didn't retreat so far that Taeil would think his mittens weren't working.

"How is your day going so far, Tae?" Taeil asked. _How is your day going?_ It was such a sweet question-- for Taeil to wonder how Taeyong's day was, for Taeil to care to ask. Taeyong told him everything he could think of, which dwindled down to very few things-- like the essay he was going to do tonight, the project coming up for film, the way his day had been good, the way he didn't eat lunch. Taeil frowned at the last little fast-- the _I was too busy to eat_ , and told Taeyong he had to take care of himself-- "You can't skip meals, Tae, that's not healthy."

"I'll eat a lot for dinner, hyung, don't worry." Taeyong said, suddenly feeling shy because Taeil was taking care of him--and he played up the part, too, tilting his head down against his scarf and looking up at Taeil through his eyelashes. Taeil moved his mittens to massage Taeyong's temples, and laughed a little bit, "Why are you being so cute today? Do you want something?"

"Your love." Taeyong admitted quietly. Taeil laughed a little bit, making a sound like he didn't like Taeyong's response-- but he still had a smile gracing his face, and he didn't cringe away from Taeyong at all-- "What's with you today? Really? Why are you acting so cute?"

Taeyong shrugged, batting his eyelashes up at Taeil a few times, playing like he had snowflakes on his eyes when he reached up to rub one away. Taeil moved his hands back to Taeyong's cheeks and tilted his head up--and for a stupid moment, Taeyong thought Taeil might kiss him, but he didn't. Instead, he squished Taeyong's cheeks and said "Stop being so cute. It doesn't suit you-- you're too handsome to be cute."

"I can be handsome and cute at the same time, can't I?" Taeyong asked, tilting his head against Taeil's hand-- blinking his eyes extra slow. Taeil huffed out a little laugh and said, quietly, "Only you" in the midst of his happiness. Taeyong, too, caught the happiness in a couple of breaths-- and Taeil moved his mittens temporarily to Taeyong's head-- playing with his hair as well as he could without separated fingers, "I think your hunger is getting to you-- you're loopy and overly cute. You should go to class quick and eat afterwards."

"Do you want to come eat with me after class, hyung?" Taeyong asked. Taeil pursed his lips. He had mentioned, some minutes ago, his plan to go home and eat. He wouldn't like to eat twice in such close proximity-- which meant he would either have to wait, or reject Taeyong. Taeyong pushed his lips into a little line, squishing out his cheeks and waiting for a response. Taeil asked, "And wait around to take you somewhere?" and that's not exactly what Taeyong meant but he nodded anyway. Taeil continued, "And wait an hour and a half for you?" and Taeyong nodded again. Taeil pursed his lips and Taeyong wished he would kiss him-- and Taeil said, "Fine. But only because you're being so cute today."

Taeyong's happiness came in a laugh and a hug-- in which he practically jumped into Taeil's arms and held him. People began to shuffle across campus after a moment, and Taeyong realized he had to leave. He pulled away from Taeil's arms-- and before he could mention it, Taeil said "You've got to go to class now, Yongie. I'll meet you here afterwards, okay?"

 _Yongie_. Taeyong gulped, "Okay, hyung," and watched Taeil's back as he started to walk away. Taeyong felt his fingers itching for his Cupid Bow. _Wait for lunch_ , Taeyong thought. _He'll be right there, right in front of you. Just wait for lunch_ \-- but Taeyong's body didn't listen to his mind, and he pulled his bow out. He was so desperate to catch Taeil before he disappeared in the crowd; he wouldn't let Taeil be another Yuta (though he _knew_  he would see Taeil again; they were best friends). His mind was so irrational, and his body was so irrational, and he clumsily position his arrow and clumsily aimed and clumsily shot. The arrow flew over Taeil's shoulder, and Taeyong's eyes blew wide. He didn't wait around to see where it had landed-- didn't want to know if it hit anyone, or nothing at all. He stuffed his Cupid Bow back into his bag, turned, and ran-- all the way to class, slipping through the halls until he was seated in Astronomy, at which point he sunk in his chair, and got lost in the galaxy, forgetting about love for a little while.


	4. too good

**at the peak of spring ,**

Taeyong was on a break from school-- and an attempted break from love. He took a step back to realize how desperate he was for love after finding himself stumbling for Moon Taeil-- _Moon Taeil_ , his best friend of years and years-- more than he could have counted when they first met. He sunk into his chair as he remembered and regretted his behavior-- his acting cute just because he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Taeil liked that kind of thing. He remembered being calmer at lunch and Taeil noticing-- saying "See? You really did just need to eat;" and he leaned over and gently flicked his nose and Taeyong's heart raced and he was an _idiot_ , because falling in love shouldn't be so easy -- and he really must not have been _in love_. He must not know what love was, because love couldn't be _that_  easy to fall into.

Right?

Taeyong flipped through the movie channels on his television. He was so bored, and he felt so alone. He hadn't been out in a couple days, wanting some time to himself to _not_ fall in love. Three times in a little over six months was too much. He still thought about Yuta, and he still wondered what it was like to fully hold Yoonoh's hand, and he still wanted Taeil to kiss him; and, most of all, he still felt like a total idiot for falling in love over these trivial little things. Maybe if he did something about it, it would go away. Maybe if he looked Yuta up and talked to him again, Taeyong would feel some closure. Maybe if he asked Yoonoh if he could hold his hand for a minute, Taeyong would feel some closure. Maybe if he asked Taeil to kiss him-- just once, hyung, please, Taeyong would feel some closure.

Taeyong stopped flipping through the channels at the flash of pink and purple, finding the hot pink and lilac purple intriguing. The show turned out to be based in China, and it turned out to be a dance competition. The subtitles were slow and Taeyong missed chunks of explanation-- because it was live and some poor person behind the scenes was trying to translate everything as quickly as possible, but Taeyong didn't leave. He didn't leave because he saw beauty flash across his screen in the form of a man with pink hair and a shy smile-- with a confident stance and a baby blue and white tuxedo. He had a woman on his arm-- in a contrasting, deep blue and baby blue dress. Taeyong was interested to see what they would do.

Taeyong waited twenty minutes to finally see them dance, and he was absolutely taken when they did. The routine seemed like something traditional-- pretty music that reminded Taeyong of wind chimes and birds chirping, layered beneath a routine of unfamiliar dance steps like ballet and graceful gymnastics all in one. The woman spun around the man-- Dong Sicheng, his name said-- and her gown brushed his legs and his hands, and he played with the fabric in some intricate way-- letting it do the dancing for a moment as it graced along his fingertips. Taeyong's breath was taken directly from him.

Though the woman was beautiful, Taeyong could not take his eyes off of Dong Sicheng. The way he moved, and the way he held his girl; it was breathtaking-- completely and absolutely. He was full of grace and flexibility-- of tradition and beauty. Taeyong watched him dance across the screen and felt him dance into his heart. He felt the flips his heart did as Sicheng tip-toed along its strings, his arms fully extended to balance himself. He caught his woman with careful fingers and spun her effortlessly. He set her upon her knees; Taeyong watched them both crumble with elegance-- with purpose pertaining to the routine. He watched her skirt fall over his lap; he watched the theatrics of Sicheng's fingers gathering her gown to bury his cheeks against. He watched her comfort him; and he watched them get up together, and begin again-- watched her begin to run and watch him chase her-- watched him grab for her small waist and pulled her back to him. He watched them move together-- completely synchronized and captivating-- beautiful and elegant-- and Taeyong couldn't _breathe_.

The routine was over when the woman spun one last time-- directly into Dong Sicheng's arms. The two looked at each other. They were close-- chests pressed together, right hands holding one another. Her arm was across his back; his arm was across her waist. They were breathing together, and Taeyong thought they might kiss-- but they broke apart as the audience cheered. They kept one another's hands and bowed together. The camera panned close to them as the judges talked about how well they did

and Taeyong felt his fingers itching for his Cupid Bow.

Taeyong was playing no attention to his body's action, his mind still taken by the routine that had flashed across his eyes. He didn't realize his intentions until the bow was in his hand, aimed and ready to shoot. He caught sight of a pointed red heart and stumbled with his arrow, watching both bow and arrow tumble to the ground as he startled himself away from them. He watched them tumble and thought about Yoonoh-- and Taeil, and Yuta, and looked up to see Dong Sicheng beaming at the praise he and his woman were receiving, and he couldn't believed himself. What did he think he was going to accomplish, really, by shooting an arrow at his _television?_  Was Dong Sicheng really going to fall in love with him? _Would they even be able to communicate?_

Taeyong took a breath. He took a step back. He turned off his television, gathered up his Cupid Bow, and left the room. He decided he was asking himself the wrong questions, and he was thinking too much about how to answer them. He played some music and made some tea and thought of nothing; and he lay his head down upon his pillow and tried to sleep, because being awake wasn't currently helping him stay away from love.


	5. blue

**before the hot months came ,**

Taeyong wanted to sit on the counter. He wanted to slide himself back and sit as he waited, except he was in a public place and he knew it wasn't wise to sit on their clean counters. He opted for leaning against it-- for picking at his fingernails and feeling lonely. His phone weighted his pocket, and he thought about calling Taeil. Yoonoh, maybe. His Cupid Bow was heavy around his chest-- tempting. Taeyong tried not to look anyone in the eye.

 _Tried_. His name was called softly-- a curious, "Taeyong?" and Taeyong turned, thinking his order was ready--except he didn't see anyone behind the counter, nor did he see his coffee waiting for him. He turned again, and his heart leapt to his throat at the set of eyes that his made contact with-- "Yuta?"

"You remember me," Yuta grinned. He looked different from a couple months ago. He looked and sounded more confident; he looked and sounded more _beautiful_ \-- though Taeyong's lonely heart might be tricking him into thinking Yuta's aesthetic was more _aesthetic_  than it actually was.... Taeyong hadn't stopped thinking about him all these months-- close to a year, now. He couldn't believe Yuta remembered him. Perhaps he hadn't stopped thinking about Taeyong, either?

"Of course. I mean-- I'd never met anyone like you before." Taeyong said. His words brought an even bigger smile to Yuta's face. Taeyong had to turn from it for a moment, the sound of his coffee calling distracting him. The smile was still there when Taeyong faced him again.

"I don't remember _much_  about our first meeting," Yuta admitted, shyly rolling his eyes in thought, and embarrassment, "--I met a _lot_  of people that day, but I remember we had a very profound conversation about language. I think you showed me where to go? I had a map, we were on the train...."

"Better memory than me. I forgot about the map." Taeyong said, and Yuta laughed. He gestured Taeyong to follow him, "Do you want to sit with me for a minute? I'd love to catch up with you-- I regretted not sharing contact information. I think you're one of the nicest people I've met so far."

Taeyong and Yuta slid into a booth near the window of the coffee shop. Taeyong's Cupid Bow felt even heavier around his chest; it was starting to weigh him down. He thought about pulling it off, taking his aim-- _Yuta was right there_ \-- but he didn't want to ruin the conversation, because Yuta had started to continue on, "I've met a lot of really nice people but... I don't know. Something about you made you one of the nicer ones."

"That's nice to hear." Taeyong said, laughing a bit. A silence fell between them-- the kind of silence that was hard to fill right away. Taeyong took a sip of his coffee, while Yuta quickly thought of something to break the silence-- "Your movies."

Taeyong swallowed heavily, taken by surprise. "My movies?"

"You were the one, right?" Yuta wondered. He rolled his eyes up in thought, and-- "You were. I remember-- I regretted not getting your number so much because-- well, I like you, but you had such an interesting take on romance movies--I wanted to see what you'd produce one day."

" _Oh._ " Taeyong was reminded. "Yeah, I wanted to produce something real, and-- ambiguous. I really like those types of endings."

"Have you thought of anything? Plot-wise." Yuta said. Taeyong had. He hesitated on sharing, but Yuta was giving him such an excited smile that he felt it would be rude to keep it to himself.

"It's about someone who wants to find love," Taeyong said. He gripped his coffee with both hands, feeling his heart start to race a bit. He was nervous; he felt vulnerable, telling Yuta his story, "The main character doesn't matter, but I imagined it being a man-- a young man, who might not know any better. I was thinking, um... well, he just wants to be loved. He wishes every day that Cupid will take over, and find him love, but Cupid doesn't have time for him, because he believed the man is capable on his own. So the man keeps searching for love, and he falls in love with almost everyone he encounters-- even the ones he already knew. As for the ending... well, I don't want it to be sad, but I want it to end in a way that _suggests_  he's finally loved, but it's not positive. Like-- he finally gets a bit of reciprocation but no one is sure whether or not his relationship with them lasted--or if it even began."

Yuta was quiet for a moment. He didn't have a particular expression on his face; but a smile came after a moment, and small claps sounded from his hands, "That's a really good idea! I'd watch that movie in a heartbeat. What made you think of that?"

Taeyong needed an excuse. Quick. _Quick_. He thought about falling in love with Yuta, and then falling in love with Yoonoh-- Yoonoh!

"My friend and I were talking about being in love," Taeyong said, pulling excuses out of thin air, "He'd never been in love before, and I hadn't either. And I thought... I thought about the reverse, I suppose-- someone who's been in love with everyone, instead of someone who's never been in love with anyone."

Taeyong realized he and Yoonoh were opposites, in that way.

"That's a pretty thought," Yuta said, and a frown came to him this time, "That seems a little lonely, though-- lonelier than being alone, I think."

 _Lonelier than being alone_ ; Taeyong was lonelier than being alone.

"I suppose." Taeyong said quietly. He took another sip of his coffee, focusing on the heat of it as he thought of something else. He hoped for a conversation change, and Yuta gave him one, but he stayed on the topic of love, "I used to think falling in love was overrated. When you talked to me about romance, I couldn't stop thinking about how _horribly_  unrealistic-- and dramatic-- some of those films are, which is why I loved your ideas so much.

"But then _I_ fell in love, and I realized how horribly unrealistic your thoughts really get."

"You fell in love?" Taeyong asked. He didn't mean to sound so shocked; luckily, Yuta didn't really pick up on it. He was a little unfocused, after all; he was smiling fondly and he was thinking fondly-- had even leaned his chin against his chest, "I did. I met her the same day I met you. I-- just think it's so crazy, how I was thinking down on romance just a few hours before I met someone I'm considering spending my life with."

Taeyong's throat felt dry, and his next sip of coffee didn't help. He was starting to get frustrated. He was surrounded by so much love, yet it all seemed too scared to get close to him. He left his heart out in the open and no one would take it. No one even _tried_. Shouldn't _someone_  have come by by now, to try to steal his heart? Shouldn't _someone_ have fallen in love with him? Was he that unlovable? Was he just too desperate? Was he in the wrong places? Should he be like Yuta-- move out of his home country, and find love somewhere else? Maybe that was his problem. Maybe Seoul knew him too well, and he had to go somewhere where no one knew his name, so he could be the talk of the town-- the new body moving through-- catch him before he gets away! Maybe someone _else_  would shoot him with _their_  Cupid Bow, and he wouldn't have to carry the burden anymore.

"Are you okay?"

Taeyong blinked, and startled, "I'm sorry!"

He didn't realize how far in thought he had traveled. He cleared his throat, and played off an excuse, "I was just thinking about-- my movie. I-- it kind of feels like, uh, like it won't be too realistic, if I don't include all those... feelings."

"There are ways to do it so everyone understands, though. None of those modern films do. Or the old ones. I wouldn't know how to do it." Yuta said, "But I think you could. Your mind is pretty enough to figure out how to make everyone else feel the love, too."

 _Is it? It sure as hell doesn't feel like it_.

"I should go," Yuta was looking at his watch. He looked up and, holding up a finger-- _wait_ \-- for a moment, held his phone out to Taeyong, "I'd love to keep in contact."

Taeyong's fingers were unsteady as he typed his number into Yuta's phone. They weren't shaking, but they were weak. He almost dropped the phone as he handed it back to Yuta, and nearly knocked over his coffee in his desperate attempt to apologize animatedly. Yuta laughed, and gave him a hug before he left. Taeyong hoped Yuta didn't hear the desperate way his heart beat; and he hoped he didn't feel the weight on Taeyong's shoulders, pressed down rudely by his Cupid Bow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! It's been a hot minute, hasn't it? I apologize for taking so long to update! I started to focus on other things and this story kind of slipped my mind -- but it's back! I hope this update was worth the wait!


	6. wild

**sometime in summer ,**

Lee Taeyong met Seo Youngho.

Taeyong never thought he would find love like _this_ , because he wasn't one to go to clubs and parties. However, there existed a sophomore by the name of Lee Minhyung that just so happened to already be _graduating_  due to his spectacular performance in his classes and his extracurricular activities over some summers; and he was going to be an intern to some large company, and he was throwing a huge party the weekend after graduation because why not? He had a lot of responsibilities pertaining to his dream, and he felt like letting them go for just one night.

Taeyong didn't know Minhyung well, but Yoonoh did; and Yoonoh had caught on, recently, to Taeyong's depressed state, and dragged him out because _I think you could use a night of loosening up, hyung-- letting go, having fun, dancing again_ , and Taeyong didn't necessarily _disagree_ , but he certainly didn't _agree_  either.

Still, Taeyong was weak to Yoonoh's suggestions-- weak to the pull of his fingers and the smile of his lips. He hadn't forgotten that day on Taeyong's bed-- the way he _could_ have had Yoonoh. Perhaps. Taeyong still didn't know the effect rate of his Cupid Bow; he didn't _actually_  know if it would work. He just assumed, because he had it. Why else would he have it?

The party _was_  quite spectacular, Taeyong thought, and he _was_  having a good time. He drank a full red cup of _something_ , prompted by Yoonoh, and he had gotten on the dance floor and flirted his way against many chests and many backs. He'd spent two hours there so far; he was hot in his red sweater, his black jeans. He was a little buzzed off of the alcohol, and craving more. He was alone, and Yoonoh was nowhere to be found. His Cupid Bow was _so_  heavy on his chest-- after so many touches and so many looks, Taeyong had such an urge to shoot someone.

That's when Seo Youngho found him.

Seo Youngho was unlike anyone Taeyong had met before--except, perhaps, for Yoonoh. He was a kind of wild that Taeyong hadn't seen in anyone-- the kind that was obvious, but not too up-front. His voice was energetic and his smile was flirty; he slid into the seat next to Taeyong and feigned confidence, except he had a giggle about everything he said, like he _knew_  it was ridiculous. He was awkward _and_  confident; he was playful _and_  serious; he was wild _and_  tame, and Taeyong felt surrounded by the polar opposites-- and he was unsure of himself.

Youngho took to him anyway. He spent ten minutes with his arm looped around Taeyong's shoulders--and that was _after_  he had left to fetch Taeyong another cup of alcohol at the mention of craving more. Taeyong sipped from his cup and tried to look anywhere but _at_  Youngho, while Youngho kept close and whispered to him, flirted with him, teased him and made him laugh. Taeyong always thought this kind of closeness would make him uncomfortable with a stranger whose intentions were clear, except Taeyong was so desperate for love that he only wished Youngho would move back so he could aim his Cupid Bow.

"You look like you're over this party," Youngho mentioned. Taeyong could feel the transition-- could hear the dip of his voice, could feel the mood of his touches. Taeyong knew exactly what Youngho was going to say, and his heart jumped at the opportunity-- "Do you want to get out of here?"

"My apartment is close." Taeyong said. Youngho's attitude was entirely confident, now. He stood up and, in a gentleman gesture, held his hand out for Taeyong. It was strange, Taeyong thought, that Youngho would be so polite when his intentions were so different. Taeyong supposed there _was_  quite a polite way to partake in such activities, though -- so long as both parts were willing and gentle with one another, why couldn't such a one-time act be polite?

 _Except_ , Taeyong would prefer Youngho _not_  to be a one-time meeting. He would prefer Youngho come back, and come back again, and stay. If only Taeyong could find the right time to utilize his Cupid Bow....

Taeyong and Youngho only had to walk around a few blocks to get to Taeyong's place. They nursed what was left in their cups in the meantime, and held hands down the street. It was very elementary, if it weren't for their individual thoughts and the contents of their cups. Taeyong briefly thought about schooling with Yoonoh-- drinking from apple and raspberry juice pouches and walking around the field instead of running, as their teachers would have preferred. Taeyong and Yoonoh were so calm, though, that they didn't need to run off their energy, and they were allowed to just walk around, arm-in-arm, snacking on whatever they could fit into their hands and pockets.

Things were so different, now. Love was so complicated, now.

Taeyong found an opportunity to shoot Youngho when the two had arrived at Taeyong's apartment. Taeyong unlocked the door, and slipped inside quickly. Youngho followed him-- and the door had just shut when Youngho backed him against it-- gentle and slow, giving Taeyong time to react, or protest. Taeyong did neither, except he tilted his head up so it was easier for Youngho to kiss him. While his mind was still focused, Taeyong dropped his keys and shrugged off his jacket, and Youngho did the same-- except his tucked his keys into his jacket pocket and tossed it against Taeyong's couch. He had moved away a bit to do so, and Taeyong found such a quick opportunity to shoot. He scrambled for his Cupid Bow, and he was in such a rush that he _almost_  missed again--

but he didn't.

The Cupid Bow pierced Youngho, and it was the first time Taeyong had _seen_  the arrow reach someone. (He still had an odd feeling that the arrow that had missed Taeil had caught someone else.)

Taeyong didn't do exactly what he'd been expecting it to do. It pierced Youngho, but it didn't seem to phase him, and it disappeared when Taeyong blinked. There one moment, gone the next-- and Youngho was leaning toward him, and whispering, "You're quite beautiful yourself."

Taeyong's hands were empty--but full with Youngho's shirt in the next second. His Cupid Bow had disappeared, but he had Youngho now-- and Youngho was kissing across his neck, softly pulling him and finding ways to undress him while their bodies were still together-- pulling his shirt above his hips and undoing the button of his pants. Taeyong was shocked into just holding Youngho for some moments-- gripping the front of his shirt, but his body moved in sync with Youngho's after a shocked moment. He felt his heart pick up-- _he had Youngho_. He'd done it-- he'd shot his Cupid Bow, and it was gone, now. He had someone. _He had someone!_

Taeyong was ecstatic; he was more than that. He had Youngho undressed before Youngho had him undressed; and their clothes were strewn in the hallway between Taeyong's bedroom and the front door. The lights were off, and Taeyong regretted not turning them on to pay his attention to Youngho's face as they spent their first night together, but he had en eternity to get to know Youngho, he thought. He could see him in the morning, by the light of the sun; and he would see him the next night, by the light of the moon. He would feel this bliss forever, he thought--or multiple times, at least. Youngho would gather him up and melt him like this quite a bit, he thought; and his heart would never stop feeling this type of pleasure.

Thoughts overtook Taeyong's mind--thoughts of having Youngho forever, thoughts of feelings him again-- thoughts of the morning and the night and the morning after and the night after-- dreams of waking up next to Youngho and continuing their flirty conversation-- dreams of making breakfast and poking at each other for having headaches, trying to figure out who was worse, arguing softly about the night's events and who'd done what. Taeyong couldn't recall anything crazy in particular, but knew no one escape a college party without a story. He would recall things in the morning, anyway, when he woke up with Youngho and they greeted each other shyly, and started the rest of their days together.

 

 

 

Except that didn't happen. Taeyong woke up to a cold bed, and immediately his heart fell to the same temperature. He didn't bother to sit up, or look around. His eyes flitted a bit, and he saw clothes piled neatly at the end of his bed. He had hope for a moment-- perhaps Youngho was in the shower? Except the jeans were black and the sweater was red and Youngho had been wearing blue on blue.

Taeyong must have missed Youngho's heart. That was the only explanation. He needed a better aim. He needed a better opportunity. Perhaps he needed a better _person_.

Taeyong rubbed his hands through his hair, and regretted going to the party, and regretted drinking; because, although he didn't wake up with a headache, he did wake up with a _heartache_  -- and he knew, from experience, that _that_  was so much worse.


	7. for him.

**just before the leaves began to fall ,**

Taeyong gave up on love. It just wasn't for him; it was obvious, by now. He was too desperate and it would never work out. He wouldn't get his fairy-tale ending; he wouldn't even get his ambiguous ending. He would get the lonely one. He didn't have his Cupid Bow and he didn't have any patience left. He had one more year of his degree, and two more weeks before the school year started again, and he just needed to be _done_.

Taeyong had been thinking too much. Today hadn't been a good day for him. He hadn't stopped thinking about Youngho; each time he remembered his Cupid Bow, he remembered that Youngho, essentially, took it from him. He woke up to that thought, and turning on the television didn't help. In bright stage lights and blue clothing stood Dong Sicheng, the man Taeyong had briefly (and _ridiculously_ ) fallen for. He was ice skating; he was dancing _and_  ice skating, and Taeyong turned the television off quickly. Not three minutes later, Taeil called him; and it just _had_  to be a video call, right?--and Yoonoh just _had_  to be with him, right?

The first place away from home that Taeyong took himself was the coffee shop around the street; and that's where he had last seen Yuta. Taeyong ordered a coffee and sat by himself, plopped his head against the table and hated himself. He couldn't stop thinking about love, could he? And he never would, would he?

"Lee Taeyong?"

Taeyong stood at the sound of his name, and traveled to the counter to pick up his drink. His hand started for the one he saw, but halted at the realization that there were multiple on the counter. He blinked for a moment--this shouldn't be so hard, except he couldn't remember what he'd ordered, so picking his out in particular wasn't easy. He wondered why there were so many drinks on the counter-- seven, he could count. Perhaps _everyone_  was out of it. It made him feel better to think he might not be alone.

"Are you Lee Taeyong?"

Taeyong looked up. He was faced with a slightly familiar person, and it took Taeyong a good moment of skimmed thought to figure out where he had seen the man before. His eyes peeked at his name tag in the meantime. Dongyoung. Ah! He was a student at Taeyong's university--at least, Taeyong _assumed_  he was. He had seen Dongyoung walking across campus before; he remembered, in particular, seeing him a few times in the middle of the day-- in the midst of the fifteen minutes after Taeyong's second class, when Taeil went home and Taeyong walked him to his car before rushing off to his last class.

It took Taeyong a long time to process the silence that he _and_  Dongyoung had left each other in. Taeyong looked at Dongyoung again, ready to pull some response out of thin air, but stopped, and furrowed his eyebrows. Dongyoung was looking at him with an expression that seemed like shock, except Dongyoung was new and unreadable; and Taeyong wondered, "Is there something wrong?"

The corner of Dongyoung's mouth quirked into a smile, and he said, "I think Cupid just hit me with his arrow."

It was Taeyong's turn to appear shocked. His concern dropped away from his expression, and a cold feeling filtered through him. He heard Dongyoung laugh, and ask him, "Was that too much?" but Taeyong couldn't focus for a few seconds, because his mind was racing: _This is the person I hit. My arrow for Taeil? It went to him. God, I hit him. I actually did hit someone and it was him. I don't even know him! But I didn't know Sicheng, or Youngho, or Yuta-- but I know Yuta now-- but Dongyoung was an accident! I never meant to shoot him! I can't believe I shot him-- I was trying for Taeil_ \--

"Hey, I was just joking. You're just-- really good-looking. I'm sorry." Dongyoung's words had become a bit shaky and awkward-- embarrassment filtering into their situation, and Taeyong snapped out of it. He seemed to have lost himself in his desperate quest for love, and he had to consciously remind himself: _Those arrows weren't even real, Taeyong, get a grip_.

"No! It's fine. I'm sorry, I--" Taeyong tried not to panic himself into talking too fast, and gave Dongyoung a smile. _I can do this_ , he thought. _I flirted with Youngho; I can do this. Someone's finally showing interest-- genuine, sober interest. I can do this_.

Taeyong looked at Dongyoung; and his heart felt different-- "I felt it, too."


End file.
